The Moment
by InTheImprovementOfHerMind
Summary: With every one of his regenerations used up, this is the very end, the death of the Doctor. As he dies, an unnamed, future companion encourages him to remember the one Moment in Time that saved his soul. (One-shot; rated K for one usage of the word "hell")


**For those of you who don't know, this is a DoctorXRose story-so if you're not a Rose fan, that's fine, but please don't leave reviews talking about how much you hate her. You can do that on fanfics that aren't pro-Rose. Constructive criticism is always welcome, of course.**

**Disclaimer: this is my own (slightly sentimental) one-shot take on the death of the Doctor. The only character I own is the unnamed companion-I do not own Doctor Who or any of its contents!**

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She burst through the doors of the TARDIS, too worked up to notice the peeling paint and the broken glass. It was dark and a cold stillness had enveloped the inside, and for once, the 'it's bigger on the inside' failed to register with her. She didn't care about the science and the magic, she only cared about one thing—there he was. She peered through the gloom, ignoring the way dust was beginning to settle everywhere, even though yesterday it had been filled with life. He was propped up against the wall, breathing deeply. His eyes were closed, his face was streaked with dirt, and his coat was lying beside him. Bless that ratty, old coat. She loved it.

"Doctor!" she said, rushing over to him. The dust stirred and rose around in thick clouds. He opened his eyes and the TARDIS gave a great wheezing groan, the lights blinking back on briefly. She dropped beside him, seizing his wrist.

"Are you alright? I saw—the Daleks… they didn't… they didn't…"

He squinted up at her, a faint recognition gleaming in his eyes. "Hey," he said. "There you are… I thought you stayed behind."

She forced a smile, swallowing against the lump in her throat. "Nah, I jumped ship. I thought, what the hell? Aliens, six suns, time wars—that's not so bad."

He managed a weak grin. "That's what they all say."

She swept her gaze over his body. "I could have sworn they got you. Are you hurt?"

He blinked and looked down at his side, confused. "Don't really know, you know?" he answered slowly. "I felt it…" he grimaced and pointed to the smoking stain on his shirt, just above his left rib.

She reached out and touched it gently. "It's cold," she said, surprised.

"Ouch," he said weakly. She pulled her hand away.

He smiled up at her, and again, the TARDIS coughed, spluttering back into life for a brief moment. She looked around, wondering why the lights were out.

"Doctor, the TARDIS," she said, "what's wrong with it?"

He sighed and gazed fondly at his surroundings. "Needs redecorating, doesn't it?"

She grinned. "Yeah, well, maybe just a bit. I don't suppose you've got a feather duster?"

He tried to shrugged and flinched instead. "Don't think so."

"Fancy that, out of everything this old trap _does_ have, you still haven't stocked her with cleaning supplies."

"Too busy to bother with that," he said. He coughed and closed his eyes again.

She leaned over him anxiously. "What's going on?" she asked. "Are you regenerating? The TARDIS—"

"She's failing, the faithful old girl," he interrupted, sorrow shadowing his gaze. He struggled to lift a hand and pat the wall behind him. "So tired."

She stared at him, shocked. "Failing?" she repeated. "You mean, she's dying? Is that it?"

He sighed again. "That's right… never thought you'd see this rusty old bucket give up, did you?"

She attempted a laugh. "Which rusty old bucket? You or the TARDIS?"

"I'm not rusty," he protested, smiling at her.

She hesitated. "Doctor, if the TARDIS… if it's dying… are you alright? Why aren't you regenerating?"

He looked at her for a long moment, considering. "Remember that time we played cards on that one planet?"

She fought the tightness in her throat. "I remember. Zak said you were cheating and we both got kicked out even though I had won a lot of money."

He grinned. "Good times, eh? I never did pay you back."

"No, you didn't," she agreed. "I'm charging interest."

He chuckled. "That sounds fair."

"What about the card game?" she pressed him.

"I only cheated because I ran out of good cards," he said, frowning. "I wasn't ready to end it, you know? So I found another way out."

"Where is this going?" she asked lightly, squeezing his wrist.

"Cheating at cards is kind of like regenerating," he said. "Sorry, this is a terrible analogy."

"I won't make fun of you, just this once," she promised, winking at him.

"That's a relief," he joked. "But really… I regenerate to cheat death, you know? It's another way out—buy a little more time, hold off the end, just a little while longer. But Zak found out, didn't he? Probably because I was a terrible bluffer and I was grinning like an idiot. Then that was the end of that. No more dodging."

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

"I ran out of time, you know?" he said softly. "Sooner or later, we all run out of time."

"Doctor, what do you mean?" she repeated, staring at him.

"I can't regenerate," he told her gently. "I've run out of cards. There's no dodging this time."

She blinked against the tears forming in her eyes and struggled to swallow. "You're dying?" she whispered.

"I'm dying," he said.

"You can't be," she protested, her throat dry.

"Oh, but I can," he said sadly. "Me and the TARDIS—we always knew Time would catch up with us."

She closed her eyes, attempting to steady her breathing, aware that the tears she had been fighting had escaped and were trailing down her cheeks. She opened her eyes. He was watching her, brows drawn together, a half-frown on his lips—so like her Doctor, but that familiar, comforting expression was a lie—he was slipping away.

"Who's going to watch over the stars now?" she asked softly.

He smiled. "That's easy," he said. "You are. You and everyone like you. My Children of Time, the Protectors of the Stars."

"Doctor—"

"You can't stop it," he said. "No one can." He coughed, and leaned his head back, gesturing to the coat by his side. "I guess you can finally burn this old thing."

She smiled through her tears. "Never," she promised. "Do you know—I love that rag."

He grinned. "I thought you might." He closed his eyes, swallowing heavily. "I can't see… it's going black… is that normal?"

"Don't know," she said. "I've never really, well…"

"Me neither."

"Doctor," she asked, "you… are you sure you—"

"I'm sure," he said, opening his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

He looked away. "I know what's it like to say 'goodbye.' I'm sorry you're in my place now."

She shook her head, gripping both his hands in hers. "Don't be," she said firmly. "Every minute—it was worth it."

He chuckled again, and winced, his laugh ending in a gasp.

"Does it hurt?" She asked anxiously. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he assured her, breathing deeply. "I've had worse… sort of."

"I just can't believe…" she said quietly. "This is the end."

"No," he said, grasping her hand tightly. "It's a new chapter. New characters. I've been around for far too many sequels as it is.

"Doctor…"

"You don't give up, you understand? You keep going, whatever it takes. There have been others like you, there still are. People who knew me. People who've saved the world, saved me. You're one of them."

"No, Doctor," she said gently, shaking her head. "_You_ save the world. I will never forget you, what you've done, everything you've… none of us will. Because we know you, Doctor. We know that all of those times, in the darkest of hours, when the stars went out and every planet out there failed—we know that when somehow, that impossible light broke through—we know that was you. When we heard that lovely old wheeze, we knew we would be safe."

"Thank you," he said.

"No, Doctor—thank _you_." She paused. "Does it still hurt very bad?"

"Nah, I'm okay… just…" he hesitated. "Maybe a little… scared?"

Her heart broke. "_You_?"

"Yeah… it's weird."

"Don't be scared, Doctor," she said. "Think of everything you've seen and done. The lives you've saved and the people you've met."

"It's hard to remember now," he said sadly. "So many friends, so many goodbyes. I almost don't want to remember."

"Don't forget!" she insisted. "That's giving up, Doctor. Don't forget them, they love you. Think of the brightest moment in your life. The greatest adventure. The happiest years. The time you could think to yourself, 'I'm happy. I could die happy. This is what I want to remember forever.'"

"A Moment?" he repeated.

"Yes, Doctor, a moment," she agreed, choking back more tears. She lifted his hand and kissed it.

"Have I had a Moment like that?" he asked faintly, looking around absentmindedly.

"I don't know, Doctor, but think. Try. Focus on it—please," she added. "It will give you peace."

He frowned, staring off into space. "A Moment… I think… I remember… once, long ago… I knew someone."

"Good, good!—focus. Remember them. Who were they?"

"A… a friend. We were friends."

She smiled. "You were happy?"

"Happy? I… yeah… I was happy."

"I'm glad," she whispered. "Do you remember their name?"

"Yes, I… you're right, it helps. I'm not scared anymore. She wouldn't want me to be scared." His eyes seemed to stare right through her, imagining some far-off memory, and a small smile tilted his lips.

"Who is she?" she asked, curious.

"My Moment," he said vaguely.

"Yes, her—your moment," she repeated. "Who was she?"

"I wonder…" he hesitated. "I wonder if she's waiting for me? … do you think people… do you think so?"

She smiled encouragingly, wiping away at her tears. "Yes, Doctor. Of course. I'm sure she is."

"That's good," he said. "I want to see her."

"Doctor… who is she? Do you remember? Your friend—what was her name?"

He looked at her, and the endless depths of emotion in his eyes startled her. They were deeper and darker than she had ever seen them, and she felt as though his entire life was reflected in them. "Her name's Rose," he said quietly.

"Did she… did you lose her?" she asked. She felt guilty for prying into such a powerful memory, but she had to know.

He looked down. "Yes."

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice catching. She wiped at her eyes. "Did you… were you…?"

He didn't seem to hear her. "I hope she's there," he said. "I will be so happy to see her. I have to…"

"Have to what?" she asked.

He managed a smile. "There's something I never got to tell her."

She returned the smile. "What was it?"

He released her hands and pushed himself away from the wall. "Rose Tyler," he said, staring at the heart of the TARDIS. "I love you."

His eyes glazed over and he slumped back against the wall. She blinked and took a steadying breath, feeling his wrist. No pulse. He was dead. She closed her eyes and released his hand. It fell limply to his side. She stood woodenly, and leaned down to close his eyes gently, before gathering up his coat and heading for the door. She opened it, took a deep breath, and looked back one last time at the image that would fill her heart for the rest of her life—the last moments of the Doctor, the death of the last Timelord, the end of the TARDIS. Whenever she was asked about it, in years to come, she could best describe it in one, simple sentence; a sentence she felt defined the Doctor's life, his soul, his hearts… The Doctor, in the TARDIS, with Rose Tyler—she lifted her head and closed the door firmly behind her—the way it should be.


End file.
